


Like Water

by Kitty Fisher (kittyfisher)



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:57:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyfisher/pseuds/Kitty%20Fisher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate, fathers and the future...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Water

Like Water  
Kitty Fisher

 

Clark wasn’t sure what woke him, but at three in the morning he was suddenly staring, wide-eyed, at the illuminated numbers on the clock-face at his bedside. For a long moment he lay there, every muscle still, breath paused, listening. But there was nothing, just the hum and rustle of the world sleeping. Whatever had spooked him was gone – if there had actually been anything there at all. He settled back into the sheets and closed his eyes. And opened them again a minute later, ridiculously awake.

With a certain determination he settled again, eyes shut. Thinking of Lana (girlfriend: maybe present tense, maybe past) was fairly counter-productive. As for thinking of her sharing a room with Chloe? That didn’t help either. 

Neither did counting sheep.

Seconds ticked by. Minutes stretched into the infinite. Brain buzzing, he just couldn’t stop listening, wondering at the faint feeling of unease that, well, itched. With a soft grumble, Clark grudgingly gave in. Besides, he was thirsty, which was as good an excuse as any. Hauling himself upright he padded over to the window and peered through the glass to checked the shadows. Nothing lurked under his window, neither in the sycamore nor in the oak. Turning, he carefully scanned the house. Nothing. With a deep sigh he leant against the windowsill and stared at his bed; the rumpled sheets were probably still warm. Instead of climbing back between them he pulled on jeans and a pale blue T-shirt and, carefully opening his door, stepped out into the hall. Clark could hear his parents sleeping, their snores in soft syncopation. Smiling affectionately, he ghosted past their room, heading downstairs - avoiding the creaking third step that used to wake his mom every time he used to sneak down for cookies in the night - creeping down to the kitchen feeling guilty as the child he’d been.

The fridge door opened with a flood of bright light. Reaching for a carton he drank thirstily - orange juice, sharp and sweet, thick with pulp - while closing the door with his other hand, returning the room to shadows. Leaving the carton on the side he went and looked through the glass panels in the door. He felt… uneasy.

Quietly unlocking the door he stepped barefoot onto the porch. Paused, listening, bare toes curling on the wood, he stood, intent, breathing in the warm summer night, scenting the Jasmine that was planted close to the house, listening to the silence. Not really sure why, he headed down the steps and started to slowly across the lawn, breathing in the warm night air, the fresh… and distinctive tang of a gas engine, recently used.

He scanned quickly and, at the farthest part of the drive, camouflaged amongst darkness and trees, spotted the solid shape of a car. A long, low car.

And he knew then, exactly why he was awake. And for whom. For there was only one man who’d be weird enough to be parked on their drive in the middle of the night in a hundred thousand dollar car.

Nothing changed as he walked down the driveway. The car didn’t burst into life and reverse away – or try and run him down. Everything just got clearer, details of design and shape coalescing from shadows as he approached. The faintest engine smell, cooling rather than still hot, lifted from the hood as he walked past. “Hello, Lex.”

“Clark.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Guess not.”

“What are you doing here of all places?”

“Of all the bars in all the world…” Lex stopped abruptly. “I’m sitting, Clark, surely that’s obvious?”

“Want to sit inside?” Though quite what his parents would say, Clark wasn’t sure. But ignoring Lex - despite the uneasiness of their relationship - was beyond him.

Lex shook his head.

Clark sighed. Walking around to the Aston Martin’s passenger side he opened the door and slid into the vacant seat.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” He closed the door gently. “Standing up was making me tired.”

“Oh.” Lex looked at him, then shrugged as if the lie didn’t matter, or the joke wasn’t funny – which maybe it wasn’t. His hands were folded on the lower part of the steering wheel; he went back to staring at them.

The seat was comfortable. Plenty of legroom, which he took full advantage of, stretching out, settling as he surreptitiously checked Lex out. Always pale, tonight he looked weary – the skin around his eyes hollow, tense, darkly shadowed. Clark couldn’t help a wince of sympathy, and an intuitive understanding.

“Is Lionel up at the house?” Lionel, who had swept from insane to alien puppet to the same manipulative bastard he’d ever been, all in the space of a few months.

Lex’s hands curled slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. “Why?”

“I wondered what had got you so uptight.” Clark shifted a little, his body half facing Lex. “So, was he?”

“My father is staying for a few days, yes. There are issues to discuss. Business issues.”

Lex so rarely volunteered information, even of the blandest kind, that Clark blinked. He wondered how Lionel had managed to make Lex so on edge this time. “Not a good meeting?”

Lex laughed, the sound so unmistakeably miserable that Clark felt the hairs on his arms lift in dismay.

The sound cut off almost immediately. “You know? I guess that’s a good way of putting it.”

Lex went back to staring at his hands and they sat in silence. The light changed very slightly. Somewhere in the trees a blackbird starting singing. Clark knew father would be getting up soon. And it didn’t look as if Lex was going anywhere anytime soon. Glancing down he saw the LED on his watch click over silently. 03.34.

Clark sighed.

“You could go back inside.”

“I could.” Clark ran his finger up and down his knee, making stroke-lines in the denim. “But as I don’t know why you’re here yet, I don’t think there’s much point.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What were you planning then, on just sitting out here?”

Lex nodded. “Though to call it planning might be a little farfetched.” There was the smallest touch of bitterness in the laconic voice.

“Why? Why here?”

The long, narrow body shrugged and the pale hands sketched a brief gesture of emptiness. “You know, I’ve no idea. Because it seemed a good idea at the time?”

Oh. There wasn’t really an answer to that. Clark sighed again, looking at Lex, staring at him, frowning. Hell. “Lex, I know…” Dammit. “Lex… I know I’ve not…” God, when did he get so crap at this – and when did it get to feel like he was breaking some law just by asking a simple question? He counted to five, quite calmly. “Lex, do you need any help?”

Lex sat quite still. Then he laughed again, the raw sound surreally humourless. “No, Clark. I really don’t think there’s anything you can do to help.”

“Try me.” Clark grimaced at his own gaucherie. “I’m good with problems.”

“Mutant girls and ice-boys? This isn’t that sort of Smallville problem.”

“So,” Clark put on his best CNN voice, “so, Mr Luthor, tell us about these plans you have to flatten the Kent farm in order to build an eight lane freeway?”

Lex almost smiled. “Not this month.”

“Hah.” Grinning, Clark went on in his own voice. “Or you found out he knows that the aliens have landed and the sheriff is actually a little green man?”

“Green woman, surely?”

“Oh, yeah.” Clark took in a long, slow breath, relaxing slightly. “So, if it’s not any of those, what is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, and you always sit out here in the middle of the night.” He meant it sarcastically, but had a sudden panicked thought that maybe Lex did sit out here sometimes. How weird would that be? Dear Diary, a millionaire is stalking me, what should I do? He paused, not liking himself, though that was hardly a surprising thought these days. But he couldn’t help but be mildly freaked. Was it possible Lex came here every night? He had to ask. “You don’t, do you?”

Lex simply ignored him. Which was probably just as well. Clark wasn’t sure he wanted to know if the answer was yes. But he did want to know why Lex was here now, wound so tight he seemed close to breaking. “Lex…”

He let the word fall into silence. Clark looked across the car, seeing Lex’s profile against the steadily lightening morning, seeing the slim length of him shiver once.

Lex rested his head back, swallowing so hard Clark could see the play of muscles in his throat; the dip of his Adam’s-apple. “Clark, sometimes you just ask too many questions. You don’t really need to know everything.”

Slightly despising himself and the way his own fears - his own reality - seemed to irredeemably muddy what might (once upon a time in a land far away), have been such an easy friendship, he reached out and rested his hand on the black-clad arm. “Let me help, Lex.”

The arm twitched as if burned, and Lex shook his head once. “No.” Suddenly he reached forward and turned the ignition. The engine started with an expensive, muted roar. “Nice offer, but no thanks. And now I’m going. Good night, Clark.”

“Let me come with you?”

“And have your parents find your room empty? I don’t think so.”

“But...”

“Go away, Clark, I’m sure you’ve cows to milk or sheep to shear.”

“What if I just sit here?” Clark challenged.

Dark eyes turned to him, their stare implacable, perfectly cold. “You know, a few blasts on the horn would wake your dad.”

“Oh, that’s low.”

“I have no compunctions in getting my own way – you should know that by now.” Lex rubbed the side of his face wearily. “Go away.”

Clark turned and opened the door. Pulling himself out he stepped onto the drive, and looked back. The dash lights were bright, and as Lex put the car into gear, Clark caught a glimpse of dark bruises around Lex’s pale neck.

“Hey, what are they?” He pointed. But Lex put his foot down, and the car shot forward, the door swinging closed as Clark leaped out of the way. “Lex!”

But the car was gone, the taillights blinking as they disappeared, leaving Clark standing quite still.

*

“Clark, just why is Lex Luthor parked in the drive?”

Fuck. Clark blinked the sleep from his eyes and checked the clock: 03.52.

“Lex? Dad, I don’t know – is he?”

“That innocent look might fool your mom, but this is me, Son. What’s he up to?”

Even though Clark felt drugged with sleep, his father was clearly wide awake. “How would I know!”

“We heard you last night – until I realised it was you I was almost going to call the cops.”

“Oh, no. I just woke up. Lex was here, it wasn’t planned.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” 

“Great. I’m going to ask him – very politely – to leave.”

“No, Dad, please, I’ll do it!” Scrambling out of bed, Clark reached for his jeans. 

Jonathan folded his arms. “I’ll wait for you.”

Great.

“Sure. I won’t be long.”

Clark jogged out to the car. He leant down and looked at Lex’s austere profile. “You woke dad.”

“Ah.” The car’s engine started at the key’s first turn. Lex’s mouth quirked into a smile, of sorts. When he reached up to take the steering wheel, Clark could see a bracelet of dark bruising around his exposed wrist. “Good night, Clark. Please offer your father my apologies.”

“Lex –”

But the car was moving. Moving and gone.

*

The next night, Clark was ready. Feeling a fool for waiting in the dark, he finally relaxed as he stepped out into the slow-moving Ferrari’s path.

“Hi.”

The window on the passenger side lowered with a faint hum. Lex shook his head, looking up in mild bemusement. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I was waiting for you – I thought I’d save you waking dad again.”

“Thanks. Though I don’t actually come here every night.”

“Sure, fine, whatever.” Clark simply opened the door, sat down and buckled up. The door closed with a soft thud. “Let’s go to the lake.”

There was a pause. Then, when Clark was almost sure nothing was going to happen, Lex turned the ignition. “You want a midnight swim?”

“It’s gone two.”

“So literal, Clark, I’d not thought it of you.”

“Well, we all find out new things from time to time, don’t we. How’s your father?”

Lex corrected his slight oversteer. “Why?”

“Just curious.” Clark gave himself a mental pat on the back and settled into leather comfort.

They were silent until Lex parked up on the shingle by the water’s edge. With the engine stilled there was only the sound of metal slowly cooling.

Belt off, door open, Clark stepped out into the night and walked around to the driver’s side, where, courteous as a chauffeur, he opened Lex’s door. Breathing in deeply, he stood and waited until Lex eventually uncurled, stepping out slowly to stand by his side. The faint moonlight bleached away any colour he might ever have had, while the matte darkness of his clothes seemed to make his pale skin almost shimmer where it pulled tight over sharp bones. 

“How’s your wrist?”

Lex almost lifted a hand as if to clasp it, but stopped himself. “It’s nothing.”

“And the marks around your neck, were they nothing too?”

“Sure.”

Clark touched him then, one finger tracing a line down the smooth jaw. Lex held quite still. Clark, partway breathless, pushed the dark shirt collar aside. The perfect pallor was marred; mottled darkly with finger-shaped bruises.

“Lex, I know you’re irritating sometimes, but who’d you push into trying to strangle you?”

“Does it matter?” Moon-bright eyes glanced up. “And besides, why should you care?”

“Jesus, Lex… why shouldn’t I?”

A slight, elegant shrug – as answers went it was eloquent enough. Lex stepped away, moved to the front of the car and leant back, propping himself on the hood. “No idea, Clark. Just that sometimes I’m not sure if you’re my friend or not.”

“Hey, even if we were enemies I wouldn’t want you hurt!”

“Really? That’s nice.”

“Yeah – and I think Lionel did this. I think he’s done stuff like it before and I think I knew it, but I just didn’t get it. And now, dammit, I’ve no idea why you let him.”

“Isn’t the answer to that,” his accent shifted to John Wayne country, “Hell, you should see the other man?”

“Should I?” Clark stepped in front of Lex, stared down at him for a long moment, and then lifted his hand to cup Lex’s face. “Was it a fight?”

“No. Neither with nor without gloves.”

Almost grinding his teeth in frustration, Clark stared hard into carefully ambiguous serenity. God, there was so much longing in himself, longing for Lex to be anything other than what he was, longing for himself to be anything other than two worlds had made him. He sighed, bitter misery like a weight in his soul. Just then the clouds shifted and everything sharpened. He met Lex’s eyes; the moonlight enough to mark the pinched skin around his eyes, to show the heightened breathing that belied so calm a gaze.

“Clark, what do you want?”

Clark listened to Lex’s words, felt the shift of bone and muscle as Lex spoke. What did he want? Lex, different. No Lionel. The world a good place. Lex, happy. To be human. Lana as his wife. Lex as his brother – no not brother. Lover? Friend? Both, either, neither. He wanted the world, and yet he wanted just this. Lex here, his for the moment. Lex as he used to be. Lex as Clark wanted him to be. If only he could remake the world… then Lex would be without shadow. His brother. And incest would be legal.

He sucked in a deep, unsteady breath, his emotions caught in a net of confliction. “You think I have any idea at all?”

“Clark, you know what I think - if you want something, take it.”

“Even if it’s you?” He was joking, goading himself. But he’d forgotten how dangerous self-deception could be.

“Why not?” Lex stood up, the movement taking him into Clark’s body-space. Almost into Clark’s arms. “What’s to stop you? There’s no one here but us.”

Clark could feel his warmth. Feel his breath; it was faintly scented of mint. His eyes were wide, calm – a million light-years away from teasing. “Lex, I don’t even know if I like you any more!”

“Does that worry you? That I’m not as likeable,” he made the word an obscenity, “as you want me to be?”

“I don’t know…”

“What about fuckable, Clark? Do I pass muster for that?”

“Jesus, Lex…”

“You see, I think I do.” He swayed closer, his eyes suddenly hot, slightly wild as his hips canted forward, pressing them groin to groin. “And yes, I guess I am.”

Anger sparked amongst other, less straightforward, emotions. “Is it a victory that I can get turned on by you? Lex, that doesn’t exactly make you exceptional.”

Arrogance laced the smile. “Sure, farmboy. Bet you get a buzz just from talking to the cows. But hey, right now, I’m here. And unless you want to go hunting in the fields for a piece of ass, why not take mine?”

Clark groaned, the sound somewhere close to a whimper as Lex reached between them and ran his palm up the thickening length of Clark’s trapped cock. Every impulse he’d ever had to just act swamped every lesson he’d ever had to think first.

But at that exact moment Lex stepped away. By the time Clark had taken breath, the tall figure had walked almost to the lake’s edge. “Lex?”

Lex’s warm, honey-brown voice cut easily through the night. “I wouldn’t go swimming tonight, Clark, you don’t know what might be lurking in the water.”

Cursing under his breath, Clark followed, his feet crunching on the gravel thick sand. “Is that Luthor-speak for hands off?”

“Oh, no.” Lex, all limpid eyes, smooth skin and perfect innocence, turned back and looked straight at him. “Is that what you thought?”

“Am I allowed to think?”

“Well, that depends on whether I’m the poster-boy for the world’s arch villains or a misunderstood philanthropist. Flip the coin, Clark. What do you think I am today?”

“Lex, I know it must look like that but…”

“But things are complicated?”

“Yeah.”

“Life is. We all are.” Lex shrugged, and turned back to the water, staring out across the dark, flat mass with curious intensity. “And we all do things we’re not quite sure of.”

“Wow, you actually admit that?”

A sharp shake of Lex’s head. “Don’t joke.”

“Lex, those things, you know, the ones you aren’t sure of – why d’you do them?”

“Reasons. Just reasons.” Lex shrugged extravagantly. “Hell, some of them are even the right fucking reasons. Though I doubt you’d see them like that.”

“Sometimes it’s hard not to just see the results…”

“You’re such a hero, Clark. So righteous. Who’d’ve thought you’d be standing there thinking about fucking the villain of the piece.”

“I’m not! I mean you’re not…”

“Sure, whatever.” And, with a twist of his wrists, Lex pulled off his shirt, baring his pale, smooth torso down to where his pants skimmed the jut of hipbones. “Nice warm night, Clark. You look a tad overdressed to me.”

Lex’s nipples were tight, hard little nubs. Clark stared. Swallowed, as Lex slid a hand down his own faintly concave belly, the fingers dipping under his waistband.

“Lex, we can’t…”

“No? Why?”

Was there a good reason? Hell, was there any reason at all? It wasn’t as if Lex was going to demand anything afterwards. Was it?

“Oh, and Clark, stop thinking. It’s not only bad for you, it makes me twitchy to watch. You think I’m gonna demand something other than this maybe-sorta-kinda might-be happening possible fuck? I don’t want a fucking commitment, Clark, I want your cock. Understand?”

Clark bit his lip, nodded, and then gasped as Lex was there, a hand pressed to Clark’s chest.

“Got it?”

“Yeah…”

“Still hard?” A hand explored. “Of course.” Lex grinned, teeth white in the moonlight. “You’ll like this.” And he knelt, his hands peeling Clark’s zip, unsnapping his jeans, tugging cotton back and down. He paused for a moment, and then smiled appreciatively upwards. “You’re a big boy, Clark. Bet you’re the envy of every guy in the locker room.”

“Lex...”

“Too much talk? Got it.”

And he had.

Clark had had this done before. Girls. Well, Lana. But this… He couldn’t even begin to wonder at where the skill had come from. Could hardly think anyway, as like lemmings his blood cells flooded to his groin and his head swam with something so basic he could only call it lust.

Lust for this. For Lex on his knees in the night. Lex finally doing what Clark had unknowingly (or he’d kept the knowing hidden even from himself) wanted for the last five years.

But it wasn’t enough. Not even Lex’s lips wrapped around the very root of him. Not even Lex sucking until Clark thought he’d go crazy.

He pulled Lex away, even though his cock wept at the loss of that mouth (and that throat, sweet heaven, that throat) and pushed Lex back onto the sand. Sprawled, propped on one hand, lips swollen and wet with saliva, his chest heaving as he panted gently, Lex was suddenly nothing but a man. He wasn’t evil or good, he just was. And he was what Clark wanted. A certainty in a sea of unknowing.

“Go on, Clark. Take it.” Lex’s face was tight, his eyes darkly dilated. “Come on…”

Lex’s pants were thin. They tore when Clark unzipped them. Somehow, in a gasping tussle of curses and ripped seams, they both were naked. And skin wrapped hotly against skin. Clark didn’t kiss Lex, didn’t even think of it. But he turned him, bit his shoulder, palmed his back, scratched, marked it as he pressed himself into the cleft of Lex’s ass.

“God, yessssss, Clark.”

The panting was more frantic and Lex was pushing back. Fumbling, Clark held himself, cursing under his breath as even the touch of his own hand made precum pulse up his shaft. He wiped it over the tight entrance to Lex’s body, slicking the skin, teasing himself before pressing forward.

“Just do it!” Lex was quivering. His whole body tight, bowstring taut. “Clark, please…”

Lust. Clark almost howled. Lex was unimaginably tight. He was there. Inside Lex. Fucking him.

Groaning, Clark leant over Lex’s curved back, and pushed deep. Deeper, as Lex sobbed out something incoherent and his hips thrust back. Clark pulled the length of himself almost free, then slowly pushed back. Lush, wet, hot, tight. The night air cool on his sweating skin, Lex like fever, burning up against him. He found a rhythm, hard and fast, found himself listening the small sounds that slipped from Lex’s lips at each deepening thrust. He wanted to pound Lex through the sand. This was the way to control him. Like this, with his cock. Lust as power, power as lust…

With a swift move he took Lex’s arms, pulled them from under him so he fell forward and gasped as he slammed flat under Clark’s weight. Clark grinned wildly, his mouth close to Lex’s ear, close enough to lick, and bite. The bite was good. He did it again and Lex bucked under him. Again. Clark closed his hands on Lex’s wrists, held them tight and simply fucked. Rutted. And howled as he came.

He was still sprawled on Lex when he came to. Still almost hard as he started to move.

“Clark!”

The warning was soft, half mumbled but enough to keep him still. “Lex?”

“Go slow.”

Gritting his teeth, Clark obeyed, pulling backwards as gently as he could, wincing as Lex hissed in pain.

“You okay?”

“Great.” The word sounded as if it was forced through a clenched jaw. “Fine. In a moment anyway.”

Sitting up, Clark watched as Lex eased himself onto his back and lay there panting softly. “Lex?”

“You always crash like a felled tree afterwards?”

Did he? Not with Lana, he was usually too worried about breaking her. “Sorry.”

“Aw, Clark, stop with the misery!” He patted the sand next to him. “Lie down.”

With a shrug, Clark did – faintly embarrassed that his cock refused to completely lie down with him. “I, er…”

“Not a word. Watch the sky and just shut up.”

Obedient, Clark did just that. And smiled at himself. Clark Kent lying on a man-made beach, covered in sand, in the middle of the night (well, the early morning) with an amoral millionaire and a hard-on that refused to give up. But he wasn’t conflicted. Not one bit. Even though Lex had skilfully manipulated the situation to get (presumably) exactly what he wanted. Again. Though quite why he’d wanted Clark to have sex with him (he sighed at himself. Say it like it is, Clark) to fuck him, hard (and Clark’s whole body shivered at the remembering) was another matter.

“You’re thinking again.”

“Who, me?”

“You. Just watch the sky.”

He tried. There were clouds overlaying clouds. Dark and darker, grey upon gunmetal. It probably wouldn’t be so hot a day tomorrow. Today. As he lay there, very slowly, his body gave up, and his blood trickled back into its rightful parts. The night air was cool, and while the gentle lap of lake-water on shore soothed, he couldn’t help but wonder about the hows and whys. About the bruises too. And thinking about the bruises led to Lionel.

He shifted onto his side and propped his head on one hand. Lex was still as an effigy. Sand was stuck to his skin in swathes, up his belly, along the arc of his groin and the soft mound of genitals that lay lax on hairless skin (which answered one curiosity). There was sand on the side of his face too, far more all over him in fact than on Clark, but then he’d been the one pressed flat. Clark went to brush some off his arm, but at that slight, first touch Lex jerked awake. Clark let his hand fall. “Hey, I was only dusting you off.”

“Thanks.” Lex laid back, his head thudding softly on the sand. “I was dreaming…”

“Something good?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

“Lex, why the bruises?”

“You don’t ever just let things go do you.”

“Tell me?”

There was a moment, a split fragment of eternity, in which Clark was certain that Lex would be honest. But then Lex rolled to his feet, the stiffness of his back the only sign of discomfort – either physical or mental. “Leave it, Clark. Come on, time to get you home.”

He was gathering his ruined clothes, pulling on first his shirt and then his pants, bundling everything else up under his arm as he straightened. 

Clark slowly stood up, brushing himself down so that sand scattered like soft rainfall around him. “What are you frightened of, Lex?”

That stilled the other man. “Frightened?”

“Yeah.”

Lex took a long, unsteady breath and stared out over the lake. “There is nothing to fear but fear itself. But then again, whoever said that never had the dubious honor of meeting my father.”

“Why did he hurt you?”

“Oh that? You really want to know? Apparently he’s possessed by some alien. It makes for interesting dinner conversation. The Luthor family at play.” He turned and started walking back towards the car, oblivious to Clark’s reaction. “Come on, I want a drink and a shower. I’ll drop you back at the farm.”

Cold, like ice, spreading through his veins. Clark couldn’t move, but he found his voice and called after Lex. “What alien?”

“One that isn’t green.” Lex paused. Half turned. “He blames me for something to do with you, which either means Lionel has the hots for you and is sublimating quite thoroughly through me, or there really is an alien and dad’s possessed. You know anything about a bastard called Jor-El?” He stood, watching Clark’s face, and then when there was no reaction shrugged. And started walking again. “Now get in the car, all this pillow-talk’s making me thirsty.”

Clark hardly said a word on the journey. And it was only when he was standing in the barn, alone, that his madly whirling brain paused to consider exactly what Lex had said. 

*

It had been a long time since he turned up at the mansion with anything other than a tirade in mind. The automated security let him in, as it always did, and he went straight to the library, stepping into a room bright with morning light. 

“Clark.”

“Hi.” He closed the doors behind him, shoved his hands in his jeans’ pockets and walked slowly to where Lex sat, half sprawled on the couch. Dressed in his customary black, Lex looked pale. Looking down at him, Clark frowned. “You get any sleep?”

“Sure, an hour or two. You?”

“Same.” Clark glanced around, curiously uncertain now he was here. When all he could remember was the feel of Lex held tight under him, the tightness of his body and the sounds he’d made. Why, after what they’d done by the lake, was making conversation so pathetically hard? “What you up to?”

“Sitting. I do a lot of it.”

“Oh, right.”

“Try it.”

Clark blinked, and glanced down. There was gentle amusement in Lex’s gaze. And a fresh bruise on his cheekbone. “Shit, did I do that?”

Lifting a hand, Lex touched a finger lightly to where his skin shaded from cream to dark lavender. “No.”

“Lionel?”

“Well, that depends on the alien possession theory, doesn’t it?”

“Where is he?”

“Why? You gonna charge up and fight him for my honor?” Lex patted the cushion at his side. “Come here.”

“But…”

“Clark, just sit down.”

He sat, sideways so he could look at Lex closely. In all his life he’d never felt more grown-up than he did at this moment. Not when he’d first made love to Lana, not when he’d first killed someone or something for the greater good, not when Lex had lain under him and screamed into the sand. There was nothing in him of either father, no remnant of either of their needs, or wants. Or of their carefully inflicted guilt. This was his own moment. His own decision. “Lex, what would you say if I told you I know all about Jor-El?”

Quite calm, Lex merely breathed a sigh. “Is that so.” After a heartbeat of time, he shifted, turning his body so he faced Clark, one arm resting along the back of the couch, the other held tightly on one thigh. “Then I’d wonder if perhaps I wasn’t going insane after all.”

“You thought that?”

“On and off. Though rarely when I’m actually in a strait-jacket.” He smiled, briefly, bitterly. “Strange but true.”

“I can’t…” Clark bit his lip. Jonathan was in his head, deriding Lex, vilifying him. All the arguments used against Lex over the years were there, vivid. Not that Lex hadn’t done enough to damn himself too. Would the truth have changed any of that? Could the truth told now could change things. Could it change the world, or was it all too late. The secret he’d spent the last years of his life protecting was like a growth, one oozing an acid that corroded everything around it. His own life included. The decision - the moment - was now. He swallowed, balanced on a knife-edge of indecision. “I don’t think you were ever insane.”

That made Lex pause. He titled his head very slightly to one side, as if considering, then took a long, uneven breath. “So what does that make me, Clark? Misguided? You certainly made no bones about your opinion of my behaviour and affairs in the past. Or am I just as evil as you have on occasion painted me to be?”

Clark shook his head miserably. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think we’re on a set course, and there’s nothing either of us can do to step off it, to do anything other than what fate intends. But sometimes…” He broke off, and then started again, his voice quite different, quite impassioned. “Lex, why did you want last night to happen?”

“Why… Why did I want to be fucked by you?”

With a wince, Clark nodded. “You played me. Not that I didn’t enjoy it – though considering how rough I was, I should be ashamed.”

“That would be a waste. I sincerely hope you’re not.”

“No, guess I’m not. Not really. And that’s shaming too.”

“Poor little goody-goody Clark. It was a fuck. A good one. Exactly what I wanted and needed, so thank you very much. As to why I wanted it.” His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“Because I want to know if you wanted me, or would anyone convenient have done to wipe away the taste of these.” And before Lex could move, he leant forward and brushed his hand to the fresh bruise mottling Lex’s cheek before skimming down to circle one bony wrist with his fingers. “I did some of this, but not all. You gonna explain the rest?”

Quite still, Lex seemed hardly to be breathing. His eyes were fixed on where Clark’s large, tanned hand held him. “Why the sudden need to know?” Lex’s voice was soft, unsteady.

“Because we were friends.”

The dark, solemn gaze lifted, met Clark’s. “Were?”

“Should be.”

Lex nodded at that. “Who’s Jor-El?”

The knife-edge tilted, sharp as honed steel. “Jor-El’s my father.”

“Ah.” Lex shivered once, convulsively. “Jesus.”

“You were right about everything.”

“Fuck.”

“And whatever Jor-El is doing to you, it’s to get at me.”

Laughter, neither his nor Lex’s. Soft and cruel enough to lift the skin on the back of Clark’s neck. He turned, dropping Lex’s wrist as Lex rose to his feet. 

“Gee, aren’t I the lucky one - two fathers for the price of one.” Lex sounded remarkably calm. He stood very still, his eyes fixed on the elegant, urbane man who stepped through the open doorway. “At least mine never quite so literally managed to fuck me – whatever he might have wanted.”

“Kal-El.” Such reproof in one word. Clark came to his feet, standing close to Lex as Jor-El, encased in Lionel’s supreme confidence, strolled towards them, his gaze ignoring Lex completely. “There was no need to share your secrets, my son.”

The words from Lionel’s lips were an obscenity. It had been bad enough before, but here and now? Knowing even as little as he did about how Lex had been treated, it was appalling. Anger burned through him. “Get out of him. Lionel Luthor is not a toy!”

“No, he’s a conduit – I told you, this vessel is mine for when you need my help.”

“And somehow this is helping me?” Clark glanced at Lex, and recognised the fear that underlay the outward. “Excuse me while I have a little trouble getting my head around that one.”

Lionel’s body walked into the center of the room; commanded it like a Shakespearian actor taking center stage. Coat and suit immaculate, hair styled, eyes opaque, it was Jor-El who spoke. “You are foolish, child. The man at your side has to be your enemy.”

“There’s no has to be. Why can’t you just leave me alone – I’m not going to be what you want. Accept it.”

“You have a destiny. One that needs certain things. One of those is an enemy, one who can push you into being better, more ruthless, less pathetically human. For you to fulfil your destiny, Kal-El, you need to hate.”

“And you think Lex will make me do that?” Clark was almost stuttering as outrage seethed through him.

“You were already part way there. Your adoptive father has seen to that. This body as well, has been a help – for human or not, this one is not weak. I chose well.” The smile was so self-congratulatory that Clark itched to wipe it away. A hand on his arm stopped him, held him still.

Lex’s voice was cool, perfectly reasoned. “Clark’s not my enemy.”

“He will be.”

“Why? Because you think some ambiguous carvings on a cave wall want him to be? I don’t think so.” Lex’s sarcasm could have withered corn. “We’re what we make of ourselves. Freewill, Jor-El. Did you think a spot of forced incest would turn me evil overnight? I’ll grant that is was hardly pleasant – not high on my list of preferred pastimes – but it didn’t send me off to plan the demise of the universe.”

“No, it sent him to me.” Clark glanced at Lex, met his eyes for a second, and then took a step towards his father. “And last night we made a connection that really does make us closer than brothers. You think after that I could hate him?”

“What this body did made him hate. Humans are so pathetically simple.” Lionel folded his arms. “You’ll tire of him. He’s human, tedious. You can have any human you want to toy with until you grow bored. You are power, my son. Be it. Use it. This human can only be the goad that pushes you towards your true destiny.”

“No.” Clark ran then, ramming himself into Lionel, momentum taking them through the window and tumbling out onto the ground. The last thing he heard was Lex despairingly call his name, and then he was fighting for his life.

For the future.

He knew when they felled a line of trees. He knew the earth was ripping up around them, but all he could think of was the misery that had been brought to this planet by this one being. He pounded Jor-El, took the fire and ice and sheer power that was thrown at him and returned it with interest. His father only had his vision of the future to fight for, Clark had his vision for a whole world.

He wouldn’t fail. Couldn’t. 

In a blur of time they battled, Titans scrapping over Fate. In an instant, in an eternity, they fought, all of it in silence. Until the moment Clark had Lionel by the throat. He pressed him like a dog to the ground and knew, in a moment, that the choice was his. That he could be his father’s chosen one, that he could tighten his grip and watch Jor-El die along with Lionel Luthor, or he could be the better, nobler, and let him live.

The world around him span to a standstill. Dust settled and the world shuddered to a halt. Holding Jor-El down, with blood dripping from his nose and chin to spatter over the livid face, Clark was panting like a wounded animal. Victory was so stunningly sweet, but he needed more – and he wasn’t afraid to bluff. “Jor-El. Give up.”

Lionel’s teeth were bared, their porcelain stained carmine as he snarled up. “Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you. I’m not going to go on with you trying to control me. I won’t live like it. This world is more important than you are – do you understand me?”

“You are a fool.”

“Yes, maybe. Leave the body you’re in. Leave this place.”

“Why did I ever think you were worth my time?”

“I wish you never had.”

“And I wish you well of these pathetic mortals. I curse you. You’ll die, slowly, like one of the vermin you so admire. And you’ll never see me again.”

The rush of particle acceleration left Clark gasping. And the body in his grip was Lionel’s.

For a long moment, Clark knelt where he was. With hands that trembled, he checked that Lionel lived. Then, like an old, old man he climbed clumsily to his feet and looked around. Strangely enough the battle had brought them back to where they started, and he was standing in the shredded remains of Lex’s front lawn. And Lex was there, by the house, his face stark with horror, his skin grey.

“It’s alright…”

It was. It really was. Clark frowned in confusion when he fell to his knees. But Lex was there with him, holding him, laughing through something that might have been tears.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure.” Clark nodded. “I won. Shit, I won!”

“He’s gone?”

“Yeah.”

“And my father?”

“Probably needs a hospital.”

“And you?”

“No. I’m fine. Just winded.” The bruises were already fading, the blood drying as he started to heal. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Giddy with exhilaration, Clark laughed. “But the good guy won.”

“Come on. Inside.”

Leaning on Lex’s shoulder, he got back to his feet and looked around. “Sorry about the lawn. Um, and the trees.” Vaguely, he wondered what else. “And the window…”

“Idiot. Come on.” Together they stumbled along, climbing over broken stones, shards of glass, wood and pottery. The nearest room intact was Lex’s bedroom and there Clark sank back onto the bed while Lex span a lie about a localised tornado to the 911 controller. He could sleep for a week. Needed to. He was faintly aware of a blanket being pulled over him. Distantly aware of blood being wiped from his face. That Lex kissed him he might have imagined. But the image crept into sleep with him, and fed his dreams.

*

It was dark when he awoke.

He opened his eyes to find Lex curled beside him.

“Hi.”

Lex smiled, then. A soft expression that teased the corners of his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Guess you saved the world.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Is he gone?”

“Yes.” Oh, yes, that was for certain. Jor-El had too much pride to come back. He’d never want to see his son again, which as far as the son was concerned was perfect. Liberating.

“You know, if there was a competition for most fucked-up father-son relationship, I used to think I’d win, hands down. But Clark, I think you just stole the crown.” He shifted slightly, stretching out, still with his eyes on Clark. “Where are you from?”

“Krypton.”

“Thank you.”

“I should have told you – but…”

“Jonathan persuaded you otherwise? Let me guess, he thought you’d end up on a Luther Corp gurney being analysed down to your last molecule?”

“Well, you do have a habit of being curious.”

“An enquiring mind is not necessarily a bad thing.” Lex paused. “Nor an evil one.”

“I know.” And Clark really did. And even if he was wrong, this decision was his own to make, his own life, his own safety. Lifting one filthy hand he touched Lex’s fingers where they lay, lax on the comforter. “I don’t think you’d hurt me. Not deliberately. But there was always Lionel.” Lionel, bleeding on the wreckage of the lawn. “Oh, how is he?”

The wide, bony shoulders shrugged. “I doubt he’ll be hurting anyone soon, if at all. He’s in a coma, they don’t think he’ll come out of it.”

“Lex, I’m so –”

“Don’t you dare apologise!” His fingers shifted, wound their way through Clark’s. “Allow me this ruthlessness – it happened. If he lives, then fair enough. If he dies, then I mourn the father I never had.” There were shadows in Lex’s eyes that belied the glib words, but he squeezed Clark’s hand, and his expression was rueful. “And after the last few days, I really don’t want to even see him – even if it wasn’t actually him.” He frowned. “If you see what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Clark looked at Lex, trying to see him clearly. Not just the exhaustion and the pallor. Not the money or the intricate brain. But just to see the man. “Lex, when I found you sitting in the car, just sitting there in the darkness, why were you there?”

“Is this the equivalent of me asking where you come from?” Lex flashed a grin, and then sobered instantly. “I’ll answer, if you’ll do one thing for me.”

“Sure.”

“No questions?”

“No.” That smile, the good one that made Clark’s stomach tighten.

“Kiss me.”

Whatever Clark had ever done, he’d never kissed a man. Yet it seemed ridiculous to protest, not after what else he’d done to Lex. He almost laughed, but not quite. Not when he looked into Lex’s eyes and saw such absolute intensity. Instead he shifted forward, wriggling until they were lying together, their bodies skimming here and there. Lex’s breath warm against his own. The world reduced to a few feet of bed and the wide expectancy in Lex’s eyes. Then Clark moved that last inch.

The first contact made him shiver. His lips parted of their own accord and he pressed closer, his touch light, his whole body seemingly suspended in a curious expectancy. One that resolved when Lex kissed him back. Clark sighed into it, into the wholeness of it, into the sharp eroticism that flooded blood into his groin and left him groaning, the sound trapped in his throat, in Lex’s mouth. The intimacy was shocking, consuming. He wanted to pull back, to remember who and what he was, but instead he slid into the kiss, dived into it with a delight that had him wrapping an arm around Lex and pulling him close as he deepened the kiss into something that was passion and life and excitement. Something that was whole. Perfect.

“Lex…” The word spilled from him, wrapped around his mouth and Lex’s tongue and sang between them until the moment Lex pulled away, breaking the connection as he leant back.

Clark stared at him. Then slowly, savoringly, licked his lips. One kiss. It was clearly not going to be enough.

“Just the one, Clark.”

“Oh.” Disappointment hurt.

“You wanted to know why I was in your backyard in the middle of the night.”

Nodding, which was pretty much all he was capable of, Clark tried to even out his breathing. “Yeah.”

“I wondered myself, you know.” Lex was talking softly, almost murmuring. “Wondered why you meant so much to me. Why it mattered so much when you started to hate me. I didn’t want to care, didn’t want to realise what you meant to me, what you represented. And then Lionel – even though in the end it wasn’t – started to do what he did, and because I wanted him to be something to me that wasn’t just cold and manipulative and heartless, I let him. But I despised myself. And wanted something that wasn’t tainted. And the only thing in my whole goddamned life that has no taint at all was you. So there I was. And there you were. And here we are…”

That smile. Clark shivered, and felt the world realign. “Yes.”

“The kiss was good?”

“Great.” Oh, damn, that smile. “Better. Couldn’t you tell?”

“Like water after drought.” Lex sighed. “Yes. Come to Europe with me?”

“Sure.”

“What about everything here?” Lex hesitated. “Jonathan and Martha. Lana…”

“They’ll be here when we get back. Dad won’t be happy, but hey. As for Lana, she’s decided on MetU. She’s… thinking about our relationship.” 

“I’m sorry.”

And he probably was. Maybe Lana was for neither of them. Perhaps they had both focussed on her as a way of not dealing with each other. For whatever happened now, and whatever this meant, it was a new beginning. “Europe sounds good. Truly.” 

Lex stroked a hand over Clark’s face; the tips of his fingers left a tingle in their wake. “Anywhere. But after a shower, and maybe something to eat?”

“Mm, I’m ravenous.”

“So am I.” The look in Lex’s eyes left no doubt as to what he was hungry for. Clark kissed him for that. Kissed him hard and long, relishing the rush, the sheer exhilaration of it. He may have scorned fate to Jor-El’s face, but there had always been something between himself and Lex, something inexplicable. Something that deserved consideration. And he had the time. And he had Lex. For now. And now was all that mattered.

fin


End file.
